


Not Good

by vulpineTrickster



Series: Where in the World is Clint Barton? [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1466509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpineTrickster/pseuds/vulpineTrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint blinks after reading the report. He rubs his eyes, thinking he misread, and <i>nope I’m not seeing things.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Good

**Author's Note:**

> Just another crack!fic I whipped up to explain where Clint was during Cap 2, and this time my inner Hulkeye fangirl took over XD
> 
> I'm very tempted to keep up with the "Where was Clint?" plot-bunny, lol. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Marvel Universe. That right belongs to Stan Lee.
> 
> **_DO NOT COPY OR DUPLICATE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!!!!!_ **
> 
> * * *

Clint did not want to get out of bed, especially after making a nest of Bruce-scented blankets. 

He buries his face in his pillow and breathes deeply, grinning like a loon. Thoughts of last night— _hell, the entire **weekend**_ —surfaced in his memory. 

After dodging a few close calls whilst traveling across the States, Clint and Bruce moseyed on over to Las Vegas— _sure, Clint, bring the guy with anger issues to party central_ —to celebrate and booked themselves in the most expensive suite Clint’s money can buy; technically, he used SHIELD’s account but whatever. 

The pair stayed holed up on their room and, well, thoroughly made use of the suite’s deluxe king-sized bed, only stopping for food and bathroom breaks; they may or not have broken the deluxe hot tub. 

Still grinning, Clint rolls over and sprawls his pleasurably sore body across the now-lumpy mattress. _Ah, life is good._

“Hey, Clint?” he hears Bruce call out from the living room; there is a little nervous hitch in Bruce’s voice but when is there isn’t? 

The archer maneuvers to the edge of the bed and sits up, stretching out the kinks in his joints. 

“Yeah, babe?” 

“Umm…you better come out here,” Bruce replies, the nervous tone escalating. 

Okay, red flags are now flying. Clint fishes around the strewn clothing littering the carpeted floor and locates his bright purple boxers (a gag gift from a certain playboy billionaire). He slips them on before quietly making a grab for the handgun he stashed in the nightstand. 

Clint tiptoes to the open door and carefully looks out. From what he can see, Bruce, clad in a fluffy bathrobe, is alone on the couch and the suite is empty, save for him and the scientist. 

With no threat in sight, he lowers his weapon and heads for his concerned boyfriend. 

“Bruce, what’s wrong?” 

Bruce says nothing and only points to a news report flashing on the television. The audio is muted with closed captions as the screen alternates between pictures and video. 

Clint blinks after reading the report. He rubs his eyes, thinking he misread, and _nope I’m not seeing things._

SHIELD…HYDRA…destroyed…public in panic…government conspiracies…Twitter explodes with classified information. 

“Every channel is talking about it,” Bruce states. 

Groaning, the archer collapses next to his boyfriend, a hand placed over his face. 

“Oh my fucking god.” 

Yeah, life is definitely not good anymore.


End file.
